This poem represents my response to "where is my life going?" questions--you know, the ones you don't always share with your fellow sojourners, who are like you, "pursuing their destinies in God," and pretending to know where it is all headed! Though it hasn't received any rave reviews from my immediate acquaintances, I still feel it has something to say--enough so that I post it here bravely! It is a prayer with a celebration at the end...which is, now that I think about it, what all of our lives should be...
Collide-a-scopic
All I see is broken glass—
Tangled, mangled shards of broken dreams,
Each one destined for greatness,
But now each one
Lying mockingly at my feet,
Declaring loss.
The red bits cry the loudest:
They were proudly forged in the heat of ambition:
Days when teachers and professors said,
“You could really make it if you try…”
The blue bits echo back a lament of loftier imaginings:
Of arts and expressions of the “inner life.”
Like ocean waves they speak
Of a vast unknown that is reachable
Only by me…
The green fragments—they seem the sharpest—accuse me unashamed.
“Humility is the way,” they say,
“Be small, be quiet, content with obscurity
And stop wanting what you can’t have in life.
The best you can hope for is no trauma, no drama and no frills.”
(I really hate those bits.)
I do see gold sparkling pebbles strewn throughout the wreckage,
Moments of real transcendent glory, but not exactly my own;
Heaven kissed me then and I was alive.
But they aren’t even proper shapes.
No one could build with them.
No, I don’t see a pattern when I look around me.
I only see what once was and what I wanted it to be—sadly.
And you—you dare me to come “as I am”?
I want to shout, “WAIT A MINUTE!!!”
This glass, these shreds, these nothings that wanted to be something—
These are me!
How can I come without them?
So you’ll have to wait until I figure out how to pick them up and bring them:
It’s a slow process because I keep getting cut…
But you won’t wait—why are you like that—insistent and intense?
Do you know something that I don’t know, being above me as you are?
What’s that? It’s not the glass but the ground you are pointing to?
Could it be that I am standing, living, dancing on a stage
That in your hands and under light brighter than my own
On purpose turns yielding patterns that make the broken glass dance—
Mirrors reflecting images that make pieces whole and reinterpret the world—
Chaos producing order and this moment,
This arrangement,
This turn of the circle
Producing a vision never seen before?
Then I realize the joke is on me (but how many others still don’t see it).
All anyone gets is the bits—
No one gets whole vases or goblets or prisms;
No perfect globes or spherical wonders, no crystal figurines.
The pieces unite to amplify the light
And the vision formed is the whole point—
Not second best, not salvaged because it’s all that is left of a once-bright future.
I dance then on the broken glass stage and realize I don’t have to bring it to you—
You’re all around it.
When I heard you say, “Come,” and did my bloody effort-filled exercise in futility,
(That has gone on now for years)
All you really meant was, “Relax,”
And all you really wanted was to dance.
--by Perrianne Brownback
Friday, October 27, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Hands Across the Water
I'm thinking I could start to call this blog "Hands Across the Water". Believe me the "an American thinks about England" slant is purely unintentional on my part--at least in its frequency. And yet, a strange mix of circumstance has yet again converged upon me and pointed my heart towards the joy of seeing the Kingdom emerge in the U.K.
It has been an incredible ride the past several weeks. My mother passed away and even though she was ready, the mix of feelings and reflection that one processes after such an event is both sweet and strange. Then, on Monday of this week, suddenly a man of 58 in our church died of a heart attack and we are all walking through that one together. As of now, my husband is meeting with the extended family (who are not in our church) and I find myself with an hour or so to pull away and try to gain a bit of helpful perspective after much time with the family myself.
As I was moving things around my desk, I came across one of my "ocassional" CD cases (no, I don't have an iPod yet, just CD cases for various moods and seasons.) In this particular case was my copy of the greatest hits of Emerson, Lake and Palmer which I bought for the sake of the song, "From the Beginning." Longing to hear the clear guitar and reassuring words of that song (which have spoken to me before in times of struggle in a way that I'm sure neither Emerson, Lake nor Palmer would even understand), I popped it in the CD player and went about the task of dressing. The song finished, I teared up and sighed a prayer, and the second track began. It was ELP's version of "Jerusalem," the poem turned hymn by William Blake. I had heard it in the seventies when the CD had first come out, but discovered it anew from--you guessed it--the end of the movie Chariots of Fire.
Just as I was applying the hot flatiron to my hair in a somewhat doomed attempt to be stylish, from the CD player, I heard these words:
'Bring me my bow of burning gold,
Bring me my arrows of desire
Bring me my spear! O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.
I will not cease from mental fight
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
It was the first time I had realized that this song's connection to England was more than speculation about the legend that Jesus might have somehow visited the isle. ("And did those feet in ancient times walk upon England's mountains green?", the first line) Perhaps partly because I needed a big picture to refocus upon, but I think mostly because I glimpsed a view of God's heart, I broke. I knew it was true: God wants to establish not a physical Jerusalem, but its antitype in the earth--that is, an outpost for the Kingdom of God so real it takes on physical coordinates! God wants to "build Jerusalem" on earth through our worship and expression of Him and he wants to do it such a manner that people can touch, taste, sense and smell God's presence right where they live. He wants the Kingdom to come near people today! With all due respects and prayers for the historical Jerusalem, there are more pilgrimages to be made than the one to the middle east! God wants to raise up attractive sanctuaries in many places in the earth and demonstrate the complee transcendence of His holy purpose! And the U.K. is certainly mighty among those places.
William Blake had an extreme spiritual fascination, but on this one he seems to have got it right. There is a call to stand up and contend for your land! There is a call to the church to again let arrows of desire fly from the bow, that is, from the spirits of "just men made perfect" as Hebrews says! There is a call to unashamedly declare the dreams of the God dwelling among his people and all the forms that might take--inroads into society, territory and culture. And there is a call to commitment that says, "I will not rest until the Kingdom is established..." (Knowing that God sends the most amazing of "rests" to those who have reached that place of total commitment.)
I wept aloud as I realized the call was as strong as ever to the British church. I wondered how many of my British friends (like myself) had a clamoring of life's voices of challenging banging around them: concerns about their church, their circumstances, their children, the future--many of them quite valid. As I cried, I called out to God as if by my voice I could pierce the veil that keeps us from seeing God's big purpose. I tried to lay hold of that for which Christ has laid hold of all of us--bringing the Kingdom to earth.
But I felt one misgiving about the poem's words that were moving me: "I will not cease from mental fight..." were the words that William Blake used to express commitment. Perhaps they were also the reason for much darkness and introspecition in his own soul. For anyone with any mental ambition to build Jerusalem on earth quickly learns that this is not a fight for the mind to take on. II Corinthians 10:4-5 "The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty..." The Kingdom is not established by minds rising against minds, but rather spirit overtaking minds! Though our minds must be engaged in the battle, they can never become field marshalls! We must always be led by the spirit, remembering that God, from His post in heaven, is the only one who really knows which sorties to send out (really waxing military here, but don't worry: I will quickly exhaust my military knowledge useful for metaphor... in fact, may have done so already!)
I wonder if the British church, like all churches, might profit from a re-evaluatory moment spent with this truth. Many of what we have called "spiritual failures" might actually be failures to acatually get into the spirit for the fight! Much of what has disappointed us probably has as its origin mental, rather than spiritual, stategizing and assumption. (In Bible language, we "leaned on our own understanding" rather than trusting "the Lord with all of our hearts"Proverbs 3:4-5). We do it becuase we want to avoid what we call super-spirituality, but we fail to realize that REAL spirituality does not neglect this realm, but rather envelopes it and finally makes sense of it. We really are in no danger of becoming ridiculous if we are truly spiritual. God is NOT ridiculous and Jesus defines him as "A SPIRIT" (John 4:24)
So, today, out of some very painful circumstances, I hear the call of God to recommit to the fight. I look across the land (both Britain and Azle, Texas) and see invisible things wanting to arise. I do not deny the pain around me at the moment, but I cannot deny the bigger picture that gives me a reason to go on. BUT, I lay aside more than ever the mental aspects of the fight and pick up the sword of the Spirit. God, I pray that you would unite us across the pond, not as great thinkers (and you know I love that--so I'm saying alot), BUT AS GREAT BUILDERS OF THE KINGDOM!!!!...Till we have built Jerusalem (the city of peace) in England's green and pleasant land...and in every land...
It has been an incredible ride the past several weeks. My mother passed away and even though she was ready, the mix of feelings and reflection that one processes after such an event is both sweet and strange. Then, on Monday of this week, suddenly a man of 58 in our church died of a heart attack and we are all walking through that one together. As of now, my husband is meeting with the extended family (who are not in our church) and I find myself with an hour or so to pull away and try to gain a bit of helpful perspective after much time with the family myself.
As I was moving things around my desk, I came across one of my "ocassional" CD cases (no, I don't have an iPod yet, just CD cases for various moods and seasons.) In this particular case was my copy of the greatest hits of Emerson, Lake and Palmer which I bought for the sake of the song, "From the Beginning." Longing to hear the clear guitar and reassuring words of that song (which have spoken to me before in times of struggle in a way that I'm sure neither Emerson, Lake nor Palmer would even understand), I popped it in the CD player and went about the task of dressing. The song finished, I teared up and sighed a prayer, and the second track began. It was ELP's version of "Jerusalem," the poem turned hymn by William Blake. I had heard it in the seventies when the CD had first come out, but discovered it anew from--you guessed it--the end of the movie Chariots of Fire.
Just as I was applying the hot flatiron to my hair in a somewhat doomed attempt to be stylish, from the CD player, I heard these words:
'Bring me my bow of burning gold,
Bring me my arrows of desire
Bring me my spear! O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.
I will not cease from mental fight
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
It was the first time I had realized that this song's connection to England was more than speculation about the legend that Jesus might have somehow visited the isle. ("And did those feet in ancient times walk upon England's mountains green?", the first line) Perhaps partly because I needed a big picture to refocus upon, but I think mostly because I glimpsed a view of God's heart, I broke. I knew it was true: God wants to establish not a physical Jerusalem, but its antitype in the earth--that is, an outpost for the Kingdom of God so real it takes on physical coordinates! God wants to "build Jerusalem" on earth through our worship and expression of Him and he wants to do it such a manner that people can touch, taste, sense and smell God's presence right where they live. He wants the Kingdom to come near people today! With all due respects and prayers for the historical Jerusalem, there are more pilgrimages to be made than the one to the middle east! God wants to raise up attractive sanctuaries in many places in the earth and demonstrate the complee transcendence of His holy purpose! And the U.K. is certainly mighty among those places.
William Blake had an extreme spiritual fascination, but on this one he seems to have got it right. There is a call to stand up and contend for your land! There is a call to the church to again let arrows of desire fly from the bow, that is, from the spirits of "just men made perfect" as Hebrews says! There is a call to unashamedly declare the dreams of the God dwelling among his people and all the forms that might take--inroads into society, territory and culture. And there is a call to commitment that says, "I will not rest until the Kingdom is established..." (Knowing that God sends the most amazing of "rests" to those who have reached that place of total commitment.)
I wept aloud as I realized the call was as strong as ever to the British church. I wondered how many of my British friends (like myself) had a clamoring of life's voices of challenging banging around them: concerns about their church, their circumstances, their children, the future--many of them quite valid. As I cried, I called out to God as if by my voice I could pierce the veil that keeps us from seeing God's big purpose. I tried to lay hold of that for which Christ has laid hold of all of us--bringing the Kingdom to earth.
But I felt one misgiving about the poem's words that were moving me: "I will not cease from mental fight..." were the words that William Blake used to express commitment. Perhaps they were also the reason for much darkness and introspecition in his own soul. For anyone with any mental ambition to build Jerusalem on earth quickly learns that this is not a fight for the mind to take on. II Corinthians 10:4-5 "The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty..." The Kingdom is not established by minds rising against minds, but rather spirit overtaking minds! Though our minds must be engaged in the battle, they can never become field marshalls! We must always be led by the spirit, remembering that God, from His post in heaven, is the only one who really knows which sorties to send out (really waxing military here, but don't worry: I will quickly exhaust my military knowledge useful for metaphor... in fact, may have done so already!)
I wonder if the British church, like all churches, might profit from a re-evaluatory moment spent with this truth. Many of what we have called "spiritual failures" might actually be failures to acatually get into the spirit for the fight! Much of what has disappointed us probably has as its origin mental, rather than spiritual, stategizing and assumption. (In Bible language, we "leaned on our own understanding" rather than trusting "the Lord with all of our hearts"Proverbs 3:4-5). We do it becuase we want to avoid what we call super-spirituality, but we fail to realize that REAL spirituality does not neglect this realm, but rather envelopes it and finally makes sense of it. We really are in no danger of becoming ridiculous if we are truly spiritual. God is NOT ridiculous and Jesus defines him as "A SPIRIT" (John 4:24)
So, today, out of some very painful circumstances, I hear the call of God to recommit to the fight. I look across the land (both Britain and Azle, Texas) and see invisible things wanting to arise. I do not deny the pain around me at the moment, but I cannot deny the bigger picture that gives me a reason to go on. BUT, I lay aside more than ever the mental aspects of the fight and pick up the sword of the Spirit. God, I pray that you would unite us across the pond, not as great thinkers (and you know I love that--so I'm saying alot), BUT AS GREAT BUILDERS OF THE KINGDOM!!!!...Till we have built Jerusalem (the city of peace) in England's green and pleasant land...and in every land...
Monday, August 28, 2006
The following are the words I spoke last Thursday (8/24) at my mother's memorial service, published here to further honor her and perhaps inspire someone else:
It has been said that there are two things a parent should give their child: one is roots and the other is wings. I consider myself to have been blessed with both of those things. My daddy, whom so many of you knew, definitely gave me roots—roots that went deep into the soil of human love and honesty. But it was my mother who taught me about wings. She did her best to facilitate activities in my life that reached beyond the mundane and transcended the norm. Daddy taught me cautious wisdom and “real life” while my mother taught me, as the poet said, to “slip the surly bonds of earth and touch the face of God.”
A couple of weeks ago, on the night when I realized that we were nearing the end of my mother’s time on the earth, I was too upset to cook anything for my family full of males, so we found ourselves in the local Long John Silver restaurant in Azle trying to decide which version of fine battered fish products to order. While I waited for my sons to bring me whatever it was I had decided upon, a song came on the in-store music system. The well of tears inside that I thought I had exhausted, at least for that day, suddenly sprung up again forcefully. The words washed over me like water, and gave me that strange sense of hope that only a song in the hands of God can do in a turbulent time. I thought then, sitting at that fast food table, that when this day came, I would share these words with you so that you, too, can experience them.
Before I share them, however, let me say, that I believe that every life has a prophetic message, a legacy. Every life makes a statement from heaven to those who have ears to hear it, for every person is created in the image of God and bears a unique package of his unfathomable character. We feel great loss since my mother is no longer with us, but it behooves us to hear the message her life is speaking and heed it. To truly honor her legacy, there must be a recommitment to the ideals she embraced, a recommitment that is waiting for each of us to embrace beyond the shadows of tears and grief—a commission that will also comfort us.
I found both comfort and a commission from heaven in the words of a pop song. If Paul in the New Testament can preach the gospel using the words of pagan poets in Athens, certainly I can draw inspiration from the pens and guitars of the Eagles in the year 2006. The words I “heard” not just with my ears, but with my heart in Long John Silver that night are these:
There's a hole in the world tonight.There's a cloud of fear and sorrow.There's a hole in the world tonight….Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.
We who loved Chloe Clark feel the hold in the world—we couldn’t help but feel it. But Chloe was a person who spent her life stopping up the holes in the world. She taught students in the public schools who were victims of broken homes and broken dreams and one by one, and with more patience than I will ever have, she stopped up the holes in their world. We live in a day when we at times hear of teachers who physically hurt their students, but I remember my mother being the actual recipient of kicks and physical actions of anger from the students she taught in the special ed classes which were her specialty. Still, she worked to stop up the holes in their worlds.
She gave to her church and her family and befriended many people throughout her life. She was like a bridge over troubled water to so many and I am truly thankful for the many ways she laid her life down for me, ways which are too numerous to recount here today. I even remember that many of my high school friends would come over to my house, I thought, to hang out with me, but ended up in long conversations with my mother, where she was helping to stop some of the holes in their world.
I remember one instance—now the details are fuzzy because I was pretty young—when she was summoned to the Hearn household to help stop up a small hole. I wasn’t allowed into the garage where the talks occurred, but it seemed that a certain older Hearn boy did not want to comply with the shorter hair requirement that was being enforced upon him. I don’t know what my mother said, but she seemed to find a way to plug the hole of teenage angst that was draining his motivation. (My apologies to Jon if I have remembered that incorrectly—the truth is she loved your long hair anyway.)
In Acts chapter 1, we read the account of the amazed disciples who had just seen Jesus taken up into heaven. Apparently, they were standing, transfixed and perplexed and perhaps feeling some déjà vu. Can you imagine it: They had grieved over the loss of the Master on the cross, only to discover that he was not dead, but still living. They had celebrated the resurrection and reveled in his presence. But now, just as they were settling into comfort, he was leaving them again—this time in a cloud of glory. Perhaps they felt the hole in their world reopening.
At that moment, an angel was dispatched to them and arrived to say, “Why do you stand here gazing?” Seems like a silly question: they are gazing at the point of their loss. But the angel, having diverted their eyes from their loss, redirects them to the future, promising that this is not the end of their contact with Jesus. In so doing, he infers that it is time for each of them to get on with the business that Jesus left behind: the business of bringing the Kingdom of God to earth! In other words, empowered by Jesus’ Spirit, which had not left the earth, it was time for the disciples to live out the legacy Jesus had left with them. “Don’t stand and gaze at heaven: God has that bit totally under control—it is earth that need you now!” the angel seemed to be saying. On earth, there are holes to be plugged and Jesus will fill the emptiness inside you with the intimacy of his presence and empower you to go forth and be a change-agent.
Jesus plugged ALL the holes in the world, but he sends us forth to live that out. Only because of his action on the cross can we, like those disciples, live a life that stops up the holes in the world. But, because of the cross, we can be certain that every hole has its plug!
My mother’s life commissions us to go forth and plug the holes in the world that we encounter. This is how we honor her legacy. This is how we receive her as a gift from heaven. Let your grief be turned to empowerment and after you have stood and looked to heaven a while, turn and find someone to help on earth and live your life to see the Kingdom of God manifested. There is nothing better to live for and no comfort like being a part of the invisible Kingdom and being at complete peace with the Creator and his good purposes for every life.
Again I say boldly, in honor of my mother: There’s a hole in the world tonight…don’t let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.
It has been said that there are two things a parent should give their child: one is roots and the other is wings. I consider myself to have been blessed with both of those things. My daddy, whom so many of you knew, definitely gave me roots—roots that went deep into the soil of human love and honesty. But it was my mother who taught me about wings. She did her best to facilitate activities in my life that reached beyond the mundane and transcended the norm. Daddy taught me cautious wisdom and “real life” while my mother taught me, as the poet said, to “slip the surly bonds of earth and touch the face of God.”
A couple of weeks ago, on the night when I realized that we were nearing the end of my mother’s time on the earth, I was too upset to cook anything for my family full of males, so we found ourselves in the local Long John Silver restaurant in Azle trying to decide which version of fine battered fish products to order. While I waited for my sons to bring me whatever it was I had decided upon, a song came on the in-store music system. The well of tears inside that I thought I had exhausted, at least for that day, suddenly sprung up again forcefully. The words washed over me like water, and gave me that strange sense of hope that only a song in the hands of God can do in a turbulent time. I thought then, sitting at that fast food table, that when this day came, I would share these words with you so that you, too, can experience them.
Before I share them, however, let me say, that I believe that every life has a prophetic message, a legacy. Every life makes a statement from heaven to those who have ears to hear it, for every person is created in the image of God and bears a unique package of his unfathomable character. We feel great loss since my mother is no longer with us, but it behooves us to hear the message her life is speaking and heed it. To truly honor her legacy, there must be a recommitment to the ideals she embraced, a recommitment that is waiting for each of us to embrace beyond the shadows of tears and grief—a commission that will also comfort us.
I found both comfort and a commission from heaven in the words of a pop song. If Paul in the New Testament can preach the gospel using the words of pagan poets in Athens, certainly I can draw inspiration from the pens and guitars of the Eagles in the year 2006. The words I “heard” not just with my ears, but with my heart in Long John Silver that night are these:
There's a hole in the world tonight.There's a cloud of fear and sorrow.There's a hole in the world tonight….Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.
We who loved Chloe Clark feel the hold in the world—we couldn’t help but feel it. But Chloe was a person who spent her life stopping up the holes in the world. She taught students in the public schools who were victims of broken homes and broken dreams and one by one, and with more patience than I will ever have, she stopped up the holes in their world. We live in a day when we at times hear of teachers who physically hurt their students, but I remember my mother being the actual recipient of kicks and physical actions of anger from the students she taught in the special ed classes which were her specialty. Still, she worked to stop up the holes in their worlds.
She gave to her church and her family and befriended many people throughout her life. She was like a bridge over troubled water to so many and I am truly thankful for the many ways she laid her life down for me, ways which are too numerous to recount here today. I even remember that many of my high school friends would come over to my house, I thought, to hang out with me, but ended up in long conversations with my mother, where she was helping to stop some of the holes in their world.
I remember one instance—now the details are fuzzy because I was pretty young—when she was summoned to the Hearn household to help stop up a small hole. I wasn’t allowed into the garage where the talks occurred, but it seemed that a certain older Hearn boy did not want to comply with the shorter hair requirement that was being enforced upon him. I don’t know what my mother said, but she seemed to find a way to plug the hole of teenage angst that was draining his motivation. (My apologies to Jon if I have remembered that incorrectly—the truth is she loved your long hair anyway.)
In Acts chapter 1, we read the account of the amazed disciples who had just seen Jesus taken up into heaven. Apparently, they were standing, transfixed and perplexed and perhaps feeling some déjà vu. Can you imagine it: They had grieved over the loss of the Master on the cross, only to discover that he was not dead, but still living. They had celebrated the resurrection and reveled in his presence. But now, just as they were settling into comfort, he was leaving them again—this time in a cloud of glory. Perhaps they felt the hole in their world reopening.
At that moment, an angel was dispatched to them and arrived to say, “Why do you stand here gazing?” Seems like a silly question: they are gazing at the point of their loss. But the angel, having diverted their eyes from their loss, redirects them to the future, promising that this is not the end of their contact with Jesus. In so doing, he infers that it is time for each of them to get on with the business that Jesus left behind: the business of bringing the Kingdom of God to earth! In other words, empowered by Jesus’ Spirit, which had not left the earth, it was time for the disciples to live out the legacy Jesus had left with them. “Don’t stand and gaze at heaven: God has that bit totally under control—it is earth that need you now!” the angel seemed to be saying. On earth, there are holes to be plugged and Jesus will fill the emptiness inside you with the intimacy of his presence and empower you to go forth and be a change-agent.
Jesus plugged ALL the holes in the world, but he sends us forth to live that out. Only because of his action on the cross can we, like those disciples, live a life that stops up the holes in the world. But, because of the cross, we can be certain that every hole has its plug!
My mother’s life commissions us to go forth and plug the holes in the world that we encounter. This is how we honor her legacy. This is how we receive her as a gift from heaven. Let your grief be turned to empowerment and after you have stood and looked to heaven a while, turn and find someone to help on earth and live your life to see the Kingdom of God manifested. There is nothing better to live for and no comfort like being a part of the invisible Kingdom and being at complete peace with the Creator and his good purposes for every life.
Again I say boldly, in honor of my mother: There’s a hole in the world tonight…don’t let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.
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